Protecting Shaylee (The Fae Guard Book 1) (25 page)

My alarm goes off at eight thirty and I groan, feeling as though my eyes are filled with sand and glued shut. After a few minutes, I manage to peel my eyelids back and turn my head to see how Shaylee is feeling. Once again, I find her side of the bed empty. I hope she isn’t sick again. Frowning, I get up and grab a pair of pajama pants on my way to the bathroom. Finding it empty, I wander out to the kitchen and stop, entranced by the sight before me.

Shaylee is frying up bacon on the griddle, a bowl of eggs sitting next to it, ready to be scrambled. She’s humming softly to herself and she looks fresh and much more rested than the night before. Her little nightie is riding up as she sways her hips, and my morning wood is instantly at full attention. I want to fill my hands with her luscious ass and kiss her until she’s begging me to take her, but I don’t know where we are at after yesterday, and I’d like to avoid pissing her off further. I tell woody to go back to his corner and relax and, for once, he listens. Mostly.

‘Good morning, baby.” I step up to the bar and debate on whether to attempt a kiss. “Are you feeling better?”
Why not?
I lean over and to my relief, she lifts her face to meet my kiss.

“I feel great. Nothing like a good night’s sleep.” She sounds oddly cheerful and I’m a little confused. Last night happened, right?

“So,” I coax tentatively, “Are we ok?” My hands grip the counter top a little tightly and I sit as I anxiously await her answer.

She continues to watch the bacon and has added the scrambled eggs, but she glances up with a small smile. “I don’t want to fight with you, Aden.” She sighs and turns around to grab two plates from a cupboard. Setting them down, she starts to fill them as she continues. “I was so hurt when I first found out, and then so angry, I didn’t think I’d be able to handle wondering if your love was based on an idea that we belong together rather than knowing in your heart.”

I want to interrupt, but I can see that she isn’t finished and I don’t want to press my luck, considering where I think this is going.

“But, I was thinking about all the times you’ve shown me what I mean to you over the last several weeks.” She turns off the griddle and comes around the bar, setting both plates down. Then she moves to stand between my legs, my hands come to rest on her hips, and she loops her arms around my shoulders. “I trust you. I know you better than to think you would ever settle. We both know this is the real deal.” She kisses my lips softly, “We both know we’re it for each other.” Another kiss, “And we both know this is forever.”

This time, when she leans in for the kiss, I grab the back of her head and bring her mouth solidly against mine. My other hand flexes on her hip and tugs her closer, melding our bodies as I devour her lips.

“I love you, baby.” I breathe against her lips. “Forever.”

She pulls back and beams at me, “Forever. I’ll love you forever.”

Sweeping her up in to my arms I stalk toward the bedroom, breakfast forgotten. Shaylee laughs in delight and smacks my shoulder telling me she is famished. I ignore her and have my favorite breakfast until she’s screaming my name. Then I go back for seconds. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

We finally get back to the kitchen and heat up the food, devouring it, not caring one bit that it’s a little dry. Shaylee practically inhales hers before eating another large helping. As we clean up the kitchen together, I can’t help teasing her.

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” I’m pretty sure that if I were wearing a shirt with buttons, they would be popping off from the satisfaction swelling my chest.

A sly smile creases her face and she winks at me.
Damn, she’s sexy.
“You did. But, for some reason I am incredibly hungry today. It must be because I got sick twice yesterday.”

I frown at her statement. “Twice?”

“Yes, the first time was at the restaurant.”

Guilt slithers in and takes up residence, deflating my ego. It was my fault she’d gotten sick at the diner and probably the stress of our fight made her sick again this morning.

“I’m sorry.” When her head snaps up and she stops loading the dishwasher. From the look on her face, it occurs to me that I never really apologized. “I should have said that first. I really am sorry, baby.”

Her face dissolves into a bright smile and I can’t help but admire how heartbreakingly beautiful she is.

“Thanks, Aden,” she says brightly. “That means everything to me. It’s forgiven and forgotten, ok?” My answering smile is so big, it almost hurts my face. I love her so fucking much, it overwhelms me sometimes.

“I guess we should get to our workout.” I announce seriously. Her face falls and I stifle a snicker, doing my best to keep my face neutral.

She gives me a half smile and shrugs, “Ok.” Then turns to head down the hall. I rush up to her and grabbing her waist, I throw her over my shoulder and continue on to the bedroom. She shrieks in surprise and I give her ass a swat, making her laugh. “I was thinking we should workout in the bedroom today.”

After opening the door and allowing Shaylee to enter, I grab her hand and lace our fingers together. I got a call from Grady yesterday, not that I answered it, seeing as how I was rather busy.

Really fucking busy.
(Pun totally intended)

Fate was ready to meet with us. I groaned long and loud when I listened to the voicemail. I’d put it on speaker phone at my reaction, Shaylee flopped down on the bed, peals of laughter dancing through the room. Fate seriously brings out my childish side, because I stomped into the bathroom and pouted in the shower.
What?
Don’t tell me you don’t ever do it. We both know you’re lying your ass off.

So here we are, ready to meet with her. Shaylee looks up at me with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if I’m all right.

I nod.
Just peachy.

Fate lives in a large old Victorian house on the other side of the city. The outside is painted and decorated accurately to the time period in which it was built. The inside is another matter altogether. Each room reflects a different style, or in this case, different personalities. The front room is splashed with color, modern art, and really weird furniture scattered around in what I’m assuming is a specific arrangement.

We pass by a rec room, decorated like nineteen twenties speakeasy, a retro fifties kitchen, a gallery of Grecian art, and on, and on. We finally reach the door that leads to her office and I raise my hand to knock. Before my knuckles meet the wood, a feminine voice calls out for us to enter. I roll my eyes.
Show-off.

Opening the door, I usher Shaylee into the room and follow behind, before stopping in my tracks to take in what’s before me.
Are you kidding me?

The room that used to be a calm and professional office is now decorated like the inside of a tent in India. The floor is scattered with colorful sitting pillows, surrounding a low wooden table, holding a—
what the fuck?
In the center of the table is a fucking crystal ball. What is she up to?

Shaylee’s jaw is practically unhinged as she gazes around the room, taking in the statues and other art, the fabric draped along the walls and ceiling, and the ridiculously large hookah pipe standing in a corner, by the door, on the opposite side of the room.

“Come, come, and have a seat Baccē.” The words float from behind some of the scarves, obscuring a portion of the room along the left side. The voice is low and accented, and I really just want to know why the hell she is being so weird. Par for the course, I suppose, but this is a little overboard. “I am Ashareera vani, the oracle.” Now I understand why she’s hiding behind the fabric. Ashareera vani is the Hindu version of an Oracle, a person without body who relays messages from God.

Shaylee walks over to the table and sits on a cushion, staring at the crystal ball, as if to see if that’s where the voice is coming from.

“Seriously? What the hell is going on, Fate?” I ask, not even attempting to hide my irritation.

Fate steps from behind the sheer curtain and throws me a dirty look. “Way to ruin it, Aden. I mean, come on, don’t you know you’re not supposed to pay attention to the man behind the curtain. Or woman, in this case,” her voice has raised to a normal pitch, but I find myself gaping at her getup.

I’ve entered the fucking Cuckoo’s Nest.
I restrain myself from looking around for Nurse Rachet.

She’s dressed in a billowing white robe, a puffy gold turban, and several strands of beads hang off the headdress, as well as around her neck. She looks completely ridiculous.

She snaps her fingers to bring my attention back to her face. “I was just about to practice my fortune telling skills with the crystal ball.” She gives me a scowl, “But, you’ve ruined it now. Honestly,” she huffs, “you’re such a stick in the mud. If you didn’t have such a juicy, fine ass, you’d be no fun at all. ” Her look turns from reproachful to a leer in seconds, making me shift uncomfortably.

Waving her hand, her clothes turn into a short (I mean, short) wrap thing and a tight halter that shows off her flat stomach. Her blonde hair is messy waves around her shoulders and she has a diamond choker around her neck. On a lot of other women, it would look trashy as hell, but somehow, she pulls it off. The room also shifts to look exactly like it usually does, white walls and furniture, with lime green and chocolate brown furniture, giving it some color. It’s classy and reminds me a lot of Shaylee. Speaking of Shaylee . . .

My gaze finds her and I groan at the shell shocked look on her face. Her eyes are bouncing around the room over to Fate, and back around the room, never quite settling. So far, Shaylee has only been exposed to the more subtle and realistic magic of the Fae. Fate, for whatever reason, has the kind of magic you read about in corny novels. Nobody understands it, we just speculate on it and as far as we can figure, it must be a magical boost from God that comes with being Fate.

Shaylee’s widened eyes are now staring at Fate’s face, enraptured. Oh right, she’s seeing another of Fate’s idiosyncrasies. Despite almost every other feature matching the rest of the Fae, the big difference is that her eyes are purple. Not blue or green like all other Fae, but a deep amethyst. It’s weird. And when she studies you with those piercing jewel-like orbs, it can be creepy as shit. Fate is always in crazy mode with her loud and flamboyant personality, but somehow, her eyes can look serious and right through you, all the while she’s heartily laughing and cracking jokes. Then, there is the fact that she has a perpetual glow. Similar to the way the rest of us look when we are accessing our magic, but hers never goes away. Creeps me the fuck out.

She turns to Shaylee, who has risen from the floor, and practically flounces over to her and embracing her in a big hug. “Welcome, girl! I’ve been waiting
ages
to meet you!” She stresses the word ages as though Shaylee had been here for years without meeting her as opposed to weeks.
Insert eye roll here.

She grabs her hands and drags her over to a long, white couch and flops down, pulling Shaylee with her. “So, tell me,” she whispers conspiratorially, “What’s Aden like in bed? I’ve been trying to tap that for years, but he’s a stubborn ass. I don’t know what his problem was, I mean,
come on,
I’m hot, right?”

Shaylee’s shock seems to be wearing off because she giggles and glances at me, her eyes dancing with merriment. I glower in response.

“So?” Fate encourages again. “Is he an animal? Or does he just put on a macho show and he’s really a pussycat in bed? Oh! Is he hung? Seriously, it’s crazy how many mouthwatering alpha guys that are out there who disappoint you in the bedroom with their tiny packages.”

“Can we move on from this discussion, please?” I plead loudly, to drown out her words.

Shaylee gives me a sympathetic look that is completely ruined by the naughty smile on her face. She turns back to Fate. “Yes, no, and definitely,” she answers in a stage whisper.

Fate’s eyes light up with delight at Shaylee’s willingness to play along. She turns and gives me a thorough inspection from head to toe and on the way back up, pauses to consider my . . . package. “Interesting.” I’m not sure if she is referring to my dick or to Shaylee’s response but either way, I am, yet again, squirming uncomfortably.

“Well,” she sighs melodramatically. “That’s a sad opportunity wasted. But . . .” she trails off for effect. Her theatrics are getting ridiculous. “If you’re ever entertaining the mood for a ménage or to swing, just let me know!”
Kill me now.
Why are there so many women in my life determined to fuck with me?
Ok, not the best term, considering the topic of conversation.

“I don’t suppose we could get to why we’re here?” I grumble.

Fate rolls her eyes at me, “Don’t get your panties in a fucking wad, Aden.” She perks up, having just thought of something. She turns back to Shaylee. “Please tell me it’s not that, right? He’s not hiding a fetish for women’s underwear?”

At this point, Shaylee loses it completely and almost falls off of the couch from laughing so hard.
Where is that hole in the ground when you really need it?